


White Roses For My Sister

by name_me_regret



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Miles Morales Whump, Multi, Non-Canonical Character Death, Pepper Potts Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23502721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/name_me_regret/pseuds/name_me_regret
Summary: Miles Morales is ten years old when his sister Billie is born, and he thinks it’s the best day of his life. He’s a big brother now, and it’s his job to protect her...---Peter Parker is so sure he's cursed, but even then, he wants to have someone that loves him. He isn't a son or a nephew anymore, but what about a brother?
Relationships: Ben Parker & May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Jefferson Davis & Miles Morales & Rio Morales, Miles Morales & Billie Morales, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Ned Leeds, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	1. Her Name Is Billie

**Author's Note:**

> So, this happened... I was trying to write the next chapter of HMHH and my mom was watching an old Mexican movie. This sprang up from that movie. It’s not an exact replica of the movie, but I take some inspiration from it. I hope this doesn’t turn into a monster, but I ain’t holding my breath. I’m gonna say a tentative 12 chapters... I hope? 😖
> 
> I will add tags as the story progresses, so as not to give too much away.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles is gonna be the best big brother ever...

**White Roses For My Sister  
Chapter One:** _Her Name Is Billie  
  
\- - - -  
  
"Settle down, it'll all be clear  
Don't pay no mind to the demons  
They fill you with fear  
The trouble it might drag you down  
If you get lost, you can always be found_

_Just know you're not alone  
'Cause I'm going to make this place your home..."_

~Home - Phillip Phillps  
  
\- - - -  
  
Miles remembered the day they brought her home, and he had been ecastatic, and terrified at the same time. He had been at the hospital the day she was born, and as soon as he had seen her face, he'd fallen head over heel in love. It was hard not to love her, but with that love came the fear.  
  
He was scared that something would happen to her, so he had gone a bit crazy baby-proofing the apartment with his uncle’s help before his mom was due to come home with her. Her name was Billie, and Miles thought it was the best name ever. He’d made a name plague for her room as soon as he knew what his parents were going to name her.  
  
Well, his Uncle Aaron has helped him a lot, but he’d traced the name onto the wood.  
  
His mom, Rio had laughed when her and his dad came home with Billie. _"Dios mio_ , Miles," she said looking around, "don't you think you might have gone a bit overboard, _muchacho_?"  
  
The Afro-Latino ten year old shrugged with a sheepish smile as he stood in the living room, where he had covered every sharp surface from the coffee table, to the regular table. He had also wrapped almost every door knob with bubble wrap from a package that had arrived three days ago. So, yes, he might have gone a bit overboard.  
  
He sprang forward when his dad walked in behind his _mami_ with the baby carrier. "C-can I hold her?" Miles asked, equal parts nervous and anxious to hold his baby sister.  
  
Rio and Jefferson glanced at one another and they must have shared something between them because next thing he knew, his mami had him sitting on the couch. She lifted Billie out of the carrier his dad had set on top of the coffee table, and then she set her in his lap as he instructed him on how to hold her.  
  
“Miles, this is Billie Mariana Morales.”  
  
“Wow,” Miles breathed out in awe as he looked down at the small wrinkled face of his new baby sister. His very own sister. He carefully lifted his free hand (that wasn’t supporting her head) and ran his finger lightly down her soft cheek. She made a noise that made him gasp, and her tiny tongue poked out of her mouth.  
  
“Look at her, just three days old and she’s already showing sass,” Rio laughed.  
  
Jefferson grinned. “Just wait till she starts walking, this is going to be a mad house,” the man said. He felt happiness swell up in his chest seeing his boy holding his little girl, his two children; his pride and joy.  
  
“Hi, Billie,” Miles whispered, slipping that same finger in between her tiny fingers, and smiled when she grabbed on. “I’m Miles, your big brother.” He felt a knot in his throat like when he got scowled and felt like crying, but this was different. This was the kind of crying that he shouldn’t be ashamed of, because it was the kind that was brought on by happiness.  
  
“I’m gonna take such good care of you,” Miles promised. “I’ll be the best big brother ever.”  
  
\-- - - -  
  
Miles cried out as he felt the older boy's fist connect with his face, and he staggered back, tripped on the wooden barrier surrounding the sandbox and landed on his butt with a grunt of pain. "Mil's!" he heard Billie sob out, slurring his name due to missing her two front teeth.  
  
The thirteen year old forced himself back to his feet, blood under his nose from being hit, sucking on his bottom lip which he'd accidentally bitten. He spat on the ground, blood mixed with saliva. "You're a tough little shit, aren't ya?" the older teen laughed, the stolen tablet in one hand.  
  
They'd come to a nearby park so Billie could play with her friends, and she'd come running to Miles crying, saying someone had stolen her tablet. Their parents had bought her a used kid's tablet off eBay this past Christmas. It had a protective case that would withstand drops or if it was stepped on. So, Miles let her have it while at the playground. She'd usually bring it back to him after showing her friends her new games.  
  
However, today there had been several older kids hanging out at the park, and the one that had stolen the tablet and punched Miles was at least sixteen or seventeen. They were by themselves, since his mom said he was old enough to take care of his sister, at least watch her while at the park.  
  
As her big brother, he had to get it back. It was his duty as the older brother.  
  
\- - - -  
  
Billie was still crying as they walked back home, holding Miles's hand with one of hers, and her tablet in the other hand. The protective case had been cracked, but the device itself was unharmed. "Why're you cryin'? I got you the tablet back," he slurred through his swelling lip. His left eye was visibly bruised as well, the skin on his knuckles busted, but at least he'd gotten the tablet back.  
  
"Cause Mil's hurt,"she cried, tears dripping down her face. Her hair had been styled by their mami this morning into two braids, the french kind, he wasn't really sure.  
  
Now he stopped and crouched down in front of her, fixing the hair ties at the end of them. "It doesn't hurt that much, squirt," he reassured her.  
  
Billie sniffled. "Y'sure?" she whimpered.  
  
Miles nodded with a smile, trying not to wince as it hurt his cut and swollen lip. "I'm sure," he said, giving her an exaggeratedly loud kiss on her cheek. It hurt him to do it, but thought it was worth it as she giggled.  
  
He was the big brother, and he was the one that was supposed to worry about her; protect her. He'd promised when she was born that he would be there to take care of her. That he'd be the best big brother ever. So, a busted lip and a black eye was worth it to see her smile, hear her laugh.  
  
Although, he wondered what he was going to tell his parents when they got home.  
  
He guessed he would just tell them he was doing what an older brother should do.-


	2. All The Bad Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Parker is pretty sure he’s cursed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that in the earlier chapter, Billie is born earlier than the comics, and Morgan is also born earlier than in MCU canon, but I changed this for the purpose of this story. Also, the timeline is distorted in this chapter, some things that happened in canon were moved up.
> 
> Also, I think I got ahead of myself when I said twelve chapters. It might be less, but if anyone reads these (lol) I’ll let y’all know here if the estimated twelve chapters changes. For now, let me know what you think.

**White Roses For My Sister  
Chapter Two:** _All The Bad Things  
  
\- - - -  
  
"Bad things happen to the people you love  
And you'll find yourself paying the diamond above  
But honestly I've never had much sympathy  
'Cause those bad things always saw them coming for me_

_It would take some time just to see me shine  
For the whole world to see me here with all of my light  
But honestly I've given up on all those fights  
So that one day I'll have you all wrapped up in my light_

_I'm gonna run, run away, run, run away, run away  
Runaway and never come back..."_

~Bad Things - Cults  
  
\- - - -

Peter could hear them crying, his aunt and uncle, and his uncle never cried. It must have been a very sad thing if even Uncle Ben was crying. The four year old didn’t know what could have happened, since before they’d been having a good time.

He wasn’t a good at sports, and his asthma didn’t let him run around too much, but today he had played catch with his uncle. His dad use to play with him, but he had been too busy lately. Peter wasn’t mad at him, because he knew they had important jobs. So, Peter had to be good and not give them any trouble. He wouldn’t complain or cry when they couldn’t play with him, and one day maybe they would see how good he was being and they’d spend more time with him.

That had been the plan his four year old mind had come up with, and didn’t know that the day would never come.

\- - - -

Peter wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. He had told the eight year old not to, that it would be their little secret. It was just that... he wanted to tell his aunt and uncle.

He didn’t like what Skip was doing, not one bit. Peter had said he didn’t want to play that game with him, didn’t want to see those adult magazines he’d forced him to look at. In fact, Peter hated it.

Skip said that everyone did it, and it was supposed to feel good. The older teenager had told him not to tell, made him swear he wouldn’t say anything.

Peter didn’t like to lie, but he had done it for a good reason. At least, that’s what he told himself as he went to his aunt and uncle.

\- - - -

Peter Parker sat in the chair in the police station, flecks of blood still on his face. He felt numb as he stared down at the concrete floor, his eyes burning from having cried for so long. The ten year old was sure he had never cried as much as he had that day, not even when they had told him his dad and mom weren’t coming back, ever.

The only family he had left was gone, and Peter wondered if he was cursed. Perhaps he had been born under a bad star, or someone had placed a curse on him. Because the boy could find no other explanation as to why he kept losing the people he loved.

“Peter?”

The aforementioned child lifted his face to look at the police officer. He knew his uncle, but at the moment Peter couldn’t remember the man’s name. At the moment, he pushed it aside and looked at the woman that had walked up with him. She had semi-business attire, a cheap suit from Jcpenny that looked to have seen better days, some flats that didn’t match the dress and hair that had been haphazardly put in a sloppy bun at the back of her head.

“Hi, Peter, I’m Margaret Reed, I work with CPS. You’re going to come with me until we can either find a relative you can stay with, or a foster parent becomes available. Until then, you’ll be staying at a home for boys.”

She smiled reassuringly at him, but Peter could see the bags under her eyes that gave her a haggard appearance. Peter wondered if he was ever going to leave that home, or if he’d disappear in the system like so many others.

Even so, he stood up and followed her, leaving behind his old life, which had once been a happy trio. Now, Peter was the only one left.

\- - - -

Ned glanced at his friend, worried about how quiet he had been since his uncle and aunt’s death. He’d tried to invite him to his house to build his new AT-AP Walker, but he had just silently shaken his head. Even Flash’s usual taunts had had no effect on him, even if the bully had toned down after the death of his aunt and uncle.

He wasn’t going to give up though, because that’s what best friends did. Besides, he was Ned’s only friend and Ned was Peter’s only friend. They had to stick together. After school he’d insist they hang out, build the Walker and have fun. Ned would save his friend, at all costs.

The sound of gunfire was heard through the halls of the middle school. Their teacher, Ms. Gonzales’s head lifted sharply, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. All of the students had gasped at the sharp sound, tensing in their seats. “Everyone... stay here,” she said, moving quickly to the door.

She opened the door, seeing the teachers from other classes doing the same. “What was that?”

Ned and Peter looked at each other, worried as they heard more of those sharp sounds and that was followed by screams. Their teacher slammed the door closed and locked it. “Everyone get to the supply closet, now!” she whisper shouted.

They had a small class that day, since a lot of students were out due to the flu that was going around the school. So, their usual fifteen had been reduced to nine, but even then it would be a tight squeeze.

She ushered them inside, helping Betty as she tripped over her desk and carried her the rest of the way. Peter and Ned were the last ones in, since they usually sat at the front of the class. Most of them were crying by then, and Peter could feel Flash at his back, the bully sobbing against his ear and he instinctively grabbed onto Ned as he also gulped in shaky breaths, face wet with his own tears.

Ms. Gonzalez was breathing heavily as she looked them over, standing in the open doorway. “Don’t come out, no matter what,” she told them, a determined look crossing her face as the sound of gunfire started getting closer.

She closed the door, locking it and all of them were plunged into darkness. They flinched as they heard something being dragged across the ground, and then something else as whatever it was was shoved against the door of the supply closet. They realized that it was their desks, one after another pushed up against the door.

The sound of a door slamming open was heard, followed by a woman’s yell and the loud sound of a weapon going off. Peter felt Flash’s hold tighten so hard around his arm he was sure he’d have bruises later.

All of them screamed as the gun went off again, something slamming into the heavy wooden door with a splintering sound. Then the sound of gunfire came again, and Peter heard Ned yelp in pain and he felt something warm splash against his face. All around him everyone was screaming as they listened to the gunfire, and light was coming through the bullet holes in the door.

Then they heard it, the clicking of an empty chamber, and a frustrated shout. Whoever was outside started banging against the doorknob with something, and the children cried as they feared he would get in. Before he could, there were more yells, running footsteps and fighting.

“Cecilia! Oh God! Hold on!” a man’s voice yelled, the shouting getting farther away.

“K...kids... help them,” a voice whimpered, then a gasp.

“Cecilia!”

Peter pressed against the door, Ned slumped down at the floor and Flash trying to push as the other kids cried out for him. They could hear the person outside pushing the desks aside frantically.

They all screamed as the door was wrenched open easily, since the doorknob had been complete destroyed. “It’s alright! You’re safe!”

It was their history teacher, Mr. Lloyd.

“Sir, Ned,” Peter sobbed, unaware of the blood on his face as he crouched over his fallen friend. Ned’s shoulder was bleeding, and the man removed his cardigan and pressed it against the wound. “Is h-he gonna die?” the eleven year old whimpered, his brown eyes pleading with the adult to tell him otherwise.

“No, he’s going to be fine,” the man reassured. He could tell that the bullet had gone cleanly through his shoulder. It was a miracle it hadn’t hit anyone else as it had exited the plump boy’s body, and it must have imbedded into the wall behind them somewhere. “Is anyone else hurt?”

Betty lifted her hand, also crying like the rest of the others. “I think I hurt my ankle,” she sniffled, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve.

“Alright,” Mr. Lloyd sighed, sounding shaken despite his calm demeanor. “We’re going to to get out here... I need everyone to hold hands with the person closest to them. Then I need you all to close your eyes.” He didn’t want them to see Cecilia’s body, not wanting to traumatize them anymore than they had already been.

Mr. Lloyd had tied the cardigan as best as he could around Ned’s shoulder, looping it under his armpit. The boy was out cold, most likely from the pain, and it was a small mercy. He lifted him in his arms with a grunt. “Peter, grab onto the back of my shirt, and don’t let go.”

Peter obeyed him, using one hand to grab his shirt and his other was being held by Flash, neither boy worrying about the fact that they were holding hands. Peter and Flash just wanted to get out of there, the latter wanting to be held by his mother. As for Peter, he was almost glad his aunt and uncle were gone, because if not they would have been terrified right now. He was glad if only to spare them this.

Even if he wished he could also be held by someone that loved him.

As the kids moved out of the supply closet one by one, eyes squinted closed and trusting their teacher to lead them out safely. Only, Peter found his curiosity get the best of him and peeked his eyes open, and immediately regretted it.

Ms. Gonzales lay in the middle of the room, almost where Liz Allan’s desk had been, and her limbs were akimbo. Her eyes were wide open and unseeing, blood dribbling out of her mouth and pooling around her body which had been riddled with several bullet holes.

Peter slammed his eyes closed with a keening noise, but the image was burned into his mind, her unseeing black eyes staring up at the ceiling. “It’s alright,” Mr. Lloyd called, “we’re almost to the hallway. Keep your eyes closed.”

It was too late, Peter had seen her. He had seen her and he would never ever be able to forget her. Her smiling face whenever he got a difficult math problem right was replaced by her face twisted in agony, covered in blood. She was dead, had died trying to save them all, and for no reason that Peter could understand.

Peter lay in his bed in the boy’s home he’d been staying for the last four months, breathing in shakily. They’d turned off the light almost an hour ago, but he and sleep could not find one another. For when he almost managed to start to doze off, the memory of Ms. Gonzalez’s body would pop to the forefront of his mind and he’d startle awake with a gasp. So, he could only lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as he tried to remember how to breathe properly.

In and out, making sure they weren’t rushed for fear that he’d have an asthma attack. He hadn’t had one in months, not since his aunt and uncle had been killed, and he hadn’t been in the hospital because of his since he was eight. That had been a difficult time for Peter.

His breath hitched dangerously into asthma territory and he forced himself to stop thinking of anything and just the shaky breaths he was taking; in and out.

As he lay awake most of the night trying to breathe carefully, he decided that it was too dangerous to love anyone else. After all, he had loved Ms. Gonzales, who always had a kind word and smile for him; especially after his aunt and uncle had died. She had helped him understand a tricky math problem and gave him more advanced work when he had asked for it.

Peter had loved Ms. Gonzales, and now she was dead. He loves Ned and he had almost died. His love killed people, and was determined never to love anyone else again.

\- - - -

The twelve year old stared at the man and woman in front of him, not quite understanding what was happening. Perhaps he was dreaming, but that seemed unlikely. While he had nightmares and the occasional insomniac night, he tended to get enough to function as a normal human being. So, he knew he was coherent and awake.

That made him try and analyze the man and woman again, the very familiar power couple. There was no way he could comprehend what he’d just been told, and it wasn’t because he was stupid or anything.

Peter went to Midtown Junior High, and his hard work all through junior high had paid off since his place was already reserved in Midtown Tech (the high school one). His grades never dropped from the top five in the whole school, and excelled in his after school activities (he had to drop almost all of them except robotics, mathletes, and decathlon, because MJ hadn’t let him).

He could still go to Midtown when the time came, but would have to get a scholarship to do so. Even then, it would only pay his tuition and not his textbooks. He’d already found a solution for that, since Mr Delmar at times needed help stocking the shelves. Peter would be able to make some money after school to pay for his textbooks, and also put some minutes on his phone.

After the school shooting, Ned’s parents had moved their whole family to Massachusetts. Because apparently, “Mom says there aren’t any school shootings there, and besides, it’s closer to MIT”. Peter knew that had been Ned’s school of choice, since it was his dad’s alma mater. He had only smiled and wished him luck, even if inside he was begging for it not to be true, but one look at his bandaged shoulder silenced him.

So, Peter needed minutes on his phone, since it was the only way to keep in contact with Ned now. He didn’t want to be able to lose touch with his only friend. He had lost everyone else he loved, and he felt like he was barely hanging onto Ned now.

That had been the plan at least, but instead, he was staring at Tony freaking Stark, Pepper Potts, and a little girl that all of America had known from the moment she’d been born, Morgan Stark. She was two years old and sitting next her mother quietly as she looked across the table at Peter, wide brown eyes almost sparkling with excitement.

“Uh, I d-dont... understand,” Peter said, looking at his case worker, Margaret. The woman’s blonde hair was as always pulled up into a sloppy bun with a few strands falling into her face. She had on one of her usual cheap dress clothes, and that had a few wrinkles at the collar.

“Mr. and Mrs. Stark want to adopt you, Peter,” Margaret repeated. “They want you to be their son.”

There was that words again, ‘son’. Peter had already been someone’s son, had been someone’s nephew, but now they were all gone. He couldn’t be some else’s son, or nephew, or anything.

The adults faces changed into something that had to be sorrow. He hadn’t realized he’d said that out loud.

“Oh Peter,” Pepper Potts sighed, dabbing at her eyes. She almost didn’t seem like she ran a Fortune 500 company, but perhaps having a daughter had softened her. It made Peter miss his own mother, his Aunt May’s absence like an ache that clawed at his throat with the need to scream, because life wasn’t fair. Life was a cruel bitch that took and took from you, and nothing and no one could make it better.

“A bruther?” a sweet voice asked.

Peter looked at the little girl, her hair braided like a crown on her head and a flower band on. She was wearing a white dress with llamas (or alpacas?) all over it, as well as cacti. Over that she had a pink vest with tassels all over it (it might have been called a cowboy vest), and brown sandals on her tiny feet. She had one a pink and white necklace with a pink flower in the middle, and a pair of sunglasses hooked to the front of her dress almost like the kinds her father always wore.

He knew this because she’d come around the table and he turned in his seat to be able to see her. She grabbed his hand, much larger than her tiny one. “You my bruther?”

Pepper and Tony had stood as soon as Morgan had slipped clumsily out of her chair. Now they watched the two kids, one twelve and the other two, but both still children. “I’m... nobody’s brother,” Peter whispered.

“Yea, you my bruther, k?” Morgan nodded like it was final.

Peter opened his mouth as he looked into her innocently smiling face, and he found he could say nothing to remove that smile from her face. “Okay,” he gasped, and he hadn’t realized he’d started to cry until her other tiny hand wiped at his face.

“Why you cry? Got an ouchie?”

He nodded as he gripped her small hand as hard as he could without hurting her, afraid to let go. “Yes... I got an ochie,” he sobbed.

Morgan wrapped her little arms around the bigger kid, in an effort to comfort him. “It’s otay. Magona kiss it better, k?” She pressed a kiss on his cheek, making the other cry even harder as he held onto her now. He was sure he was cursed, that everyone he loved died, but he couldn’t help wanting Morgan.

Peter wanted to be her big brother, to have someone he could love again, and that loved him too. He wanted to be selfish, just this once.

Tony and Pepper signed the adoption papers that same day, and Peter became Peter Parker-Stark; became Morgan’s big brother.-

\- - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is, I’m so sorry about this terrible, terrible chapter.  
> Come yell at me on tumblr:  
> name-me-regret
> 
> or my instagram:  
> @phiodmuse


End file.
